Do Not Go Gentle...

E-mail over the weekend reveals that several family members are struggling with how best to support their parents through the last years of their lives. Mothers and fathers in their 70s and 80s are confused and angry, sometimes fighting tooth and nail for what they view to be that last ounce of dignity or choice in their lives.

My husband and I are reminded of one of the most famous poems ever written, by Dylan Thomas: “Do not go gentle into that good night.” He wrote the poem for his dying father as is clear from the last stanza.

The poem begins:

“Do not go gentle into that goodnight,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”

From my own experience losing my parents a few years ago it is hard to know which is more difficult: when they are raging against the loss of all they knew of life – or when you can see in their eyes that they are starting to fade away. Dylan Thomas’s wishes come clear at the end of the poem:

“And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”

We all hope for a quiet end with dignity and without suffering, in peace and knowing we did the best we could. But most of that is luck, and meanwhile we do the best we can to help those we love at the end of their journey.

Hand-waving Ensues

So, over the holiday break my company, in a green frenzy, installed motion detector light switches in all of our offices. Now when I enter my office I don’t even have to flip on the switch; the motion detector smartly senses my entry and turns on the lights for me. Of course, it turns on all the lights when it was my habit before to have only some of them on. And as I am working away diligently at my computer late into the evening, motionless in my intense concentration, the lights helpfully blink out, since the sensor thinks I have left for the day.

When I am working at our California site in a smaller office with the same setup, I deal with this sudden and sometimes startling darkness easily by raising my hands over my head and frantically waving them in the air (much as you are instructed to do if you suddenly encounter a bear in the woods and need to make yourself seem larger), until the sensor sees that I am indeed still in the office and turns the lights back on. However, in my regular office here, my seat is too far away from the sensor and regardless of my hand-waving energy, I can’t get the lights back on unless I get up, walk toward the light switch, and either turn it on manually or move vigorously enough that it notices me and turns itself back on.

Of course, my chiropractor would be thrilled with this office improvement; it guarantees that in the evening after a long day, I will get up periodically and stretch briefly. Just goes to show there is always a silver lining in every cloud.

I am thinking about going over to Target and buying some of those toy guns that shoot rubber bands to hand out generously to all my co-workers – then we can shoot at the light switches to turn them back on without getting out of our seats.

Attitude

We shot a lot of pool over the holiday break. Since I am about to take on a major new challenge at work, I found the following quote to be particular helpful. Attitude does make a huge difference.

From "Byrne's New Standard Book of Pool and Billiards,” p. 20:

“A surprisingly large part of pool skill is a matter of attitude and concentration. When the pressure is on, the player with the best control of his nerves and emotions has a big advantage.

Try to play with confidence, even if you have little reason for having any. The sooner you act like a good player, the sooner you’ll become one. I don’t mean you should swagger, pose, brag, and sneer like some of the insufferable clowns you see at tournaments, but I do mean you should cultivate an air of command. When it’s your turn to shoot, don’t come to the table with your face a mask of fear and indecision; step right up as if everything is under control. Handle the chalk and cue with the illusion of easy familiarity. Survey the mess on the table as if a computer is whirring in your head producing printouts of favorable odds…

Acting like a good player even though you are miscast in the role is not so much for the purpose of frightening your opponent as it is for building up a feeling of confidence within yourself. In many areas of life and pool, a confident mental attitude is almost as important for success as luck…once you decide to try a certain shot it pays to do so with forthrightness and even ebullience. You’ve got to believe that you can make the shot, that you will make it. At the moment of truth there is no room for pessimism. Once you allow yourself to start worrying about how hard the shot is, how poor your chances are of making it, how bad you are going to look if you miss, how embarrassing it will be to lose the game…well, then that exquisite machine you’ve been fine-tuning is almost sure to belch, backfire, and run off the tracks.

Phrased as an apothegm: Mental control is as important as cueball control.”

Deer Valley Road After Christmas

On the day after Christmas the sun is brilliant on the new snow and the sky is Colorado blue. I dress in numerous layers against the 10-degree chill and pocket my camera. The snow is crisp under my boots and makes that crick-crick sound as I head uphill, across Broadway, up Dartmouth to Deer Valley Road. On the way up an elderly lady ventures carefully down her drive and onto the newly shoveled sidewalk in front of her house, walking stick in hand. We say hello and agree that it is a fine morning if you don’t have to shovel. I tell her of my plan to take some pictures of the snow-covered foothills further up. She is impressed that I have already walked this far up the steep hill from the other side of Broadway. Her son is coming to get her in awhile and they plan to drive around taking pictures.

As she ventures further along the sidewalk I say, “Be careful on the snow.”

She says, “That’s what this is for,” and smiles as she gestures with the walking stick. “Have a good day, my dear.”

And with that benediction from a wise woman, I feel blessed. I wish I could sit down with her over a cup of tea and have a long conversation and learn all she has to tell me. One day will a young woman somewhere wish that about me? I continue to the top, and the foothills are beautiful, covered in thick white. The camera can never capture the sparkle of sunlight on snow but I try anyway.

Joggers and dogwalkers join me in admiring the beauty of the day. I have discarded my sunglasses because I want to soak up every bit of sunlight possible. I walk back down the hill to Caffe Sole and order a skinny latte, double shot, in a real glass. I like Caffe Sole because it is not a chain, so it has little unique touches like a self-serve “express coffee” station with a hand-lettered sign posting prices for various sizes and $1.25 if you have your own cup, with a jar where you leave your money on the honor system. Two guys sit next to me over coffee discussing an on-line business venture. Two women my age at a nearby table are having a heartfelt conversation and seem to be enjoying each other’s company. A very beautiful young woman with long blonde hair wearing a gray knit cap with a bill talks to a besotted young man who wears his hair burr short with several tiny braids sprouting from the back of his head.

I feel very present, and suddenly am sure that any fear or sadness I feel is purely my own doing. If I can just stay awake and remember that one idea, I will be so much happier in 2008. So much more will seem possible. I am getting some perspective with my time off, apparently. Reading “The Four Agreements” again is helping – it still makes a lot of sense, even though the style seems kind of rough around the edges.

The Tinsel Controversy

It is surprisingly hard to get a good picture of a Christmas tree. This year our tree looks perfect to us (more perfect than usual) – just the right balanced shape and very beautiful. It is very fresh, smells wonderful, and soaks up lots of water from the stand each day. We are not proponents of the decorator Christmas tree with all matching ornaments in a single color, but more into the kind with the ornaments dating back many years. Some of the ornaments were handcrafted by us one year with friends on Boulder's Marine Street in a pre-child era; we stirred up a batch of clay-like substance, made our shapes, baked them, and then painted them. We still have several to this day made by friends we see each Christmas at the caroling party.

Other ornaments, each with their memories, were bought over time, or sent by grandparents to our children. Minnie and Mickey Mouse were sent from Indiana by my mother many years ago when my son was still young enough to be so excited on Christmas morning that sleeping late was absolutely not an option, and my daughter was a baby who also frowned upon late mornings. These ornaments still bear my mother’s neat, fifth grade school teacher handwriting on the backs: “From Granny and Grandpa, Christmas 1988.”

My husband likes the kind of ornaments that reflect prismed light, and we all spend a certain amount of time positioning these ornaments near lights on the tree.

This year we had quite a quandary about tinsel. The tree seemed to look very beautiful without it, and we thought long and hard, but in the end we placed the tinsel on the tree once more. Accordingly to tradition and theory it is carefully distributed one strand at a time. In reality there is a wild frenzy of tinsel throwing and messy clumping that must later be straightened out by the compulsive among us.

I learned recently that a good friend of mine also has the tinsel controversy at her house every year, and I suspect it is much more common than can be imagined.

Pandora

I am trying hard to let go of work for a few days and relax my mind. Today I’ve been playing on-line Scrabble (very much against the advice of my chiropractor who says I should be on the computer as little as possible lest I turn into a hobbly hunched old woman). As I play I’ve been listening to the wonderful on-line radio station Pandora, which plays – well, it plays whatever you please. And it never, ever has commercials. And it tells the name of the musician or group and the name of the piece. Oh, heaven. I was turned on to this by my clever son when I was whining once again about commercial radio and how all the stations sound alike. You create your own radio station specifying the name of an artist or song. Or you can choose from a variety of genres. Lately I have been listening to the holiday channels “Peaceful Christmas,” “Folk Christmas,” and “Traditional Christmas.” I have also created a few channels including “Joni Mitchell Radio” and “Bob Dylan Radio.” Songs that match the key words are played, not necessarily always the artist him or herself. You can also give feedback, e.g. “I don't like this song. It's not what this station should play,” or “I'm tired of this song, don't play it for a month,” or “Why is this song playing?” and it is all taken into account the next time you log on. Pandora is provided as part of the Music Genome Project, which collects information on the taxonomy of music and analyzes it based on 400 musical characteristics, then adds to this information over time. Oh, sometimes the Internet and computers are marvelous things...

Christmas Letter 2007

hen a person is expected to come up with a Christmas letter under a strict deadline, that person has to take her inspiration as it comes. As I lay on my back on the family room floor with the Styrofoam tube under my spine doing my chiropractor-recommended exercises, with Emily the cat sitting on my stomach purring loudly and reflexively digging her claws into my chest, inspiration struck.

However, it is not really a blow-by-blow account of our family’s year that I want to write about (although there would certainly be some drama in that), but rather how profoundly grateful I am that we are all still going strong as the year ends. Anne Lamott says the two best prayers she knows are: “Help me, help me, help me” and “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” I’ve said both of these a lot this year.

Okay, I can’t resist a little recap. Happily, Caitlin and Shannon are both living on their own in rentals but attending CU in Boulder now, so I get to see them almost any time I like and they are often over for Sunday dinner. In fact, last weekend Caitlin helped me put up the outdoor lights, including the brand new, politically correct LED lighted doe and stag in brilliant blue. The stag’s antlers are poorly designed and he has trouble consistently standing up straight, whereas the doe is steady, stalwart (i.e. boring), and has not given anyone a lick of trouble. Who knew?

Caitlin is doing quite well with her classes this fall and working hard toward a degree in Biochemistry. Ironically, she's living in a house on another part the same street she grew up on in South Boulder. Shannon turned 21 in July and is pursuing a degree in Integrative Physiology. He also has a new job working at a restaurant on Pearl Street. He’s climbing a lot and really enjoys his membership at a local climbing gym called The Spot.

Mark put up the inside decorations last night and got three poinsettias today, so things are looking pretty festive both inside and out. Mark’s doing great, by the way, watching a Denver Nuggets game as I write this. He is still smarting from a severe trouncing I just gave him at 9-ball in The Foundry, Boulder’s local pool hall. Tonight the hall was packed with people in a billiards tournament, a situation that makes me a little shy as I attempt to take my shots without being in anybody’s way or revealing too blatantly my own inability to consistently make bank shots (although I get lucky once in awhile).

Did I mention I got a digital camera about a year ago and have been trying to figure out how to use it ever since? It has been a lot of fun, actually.

The company where I work is doing very well and shooting for their first $1B year with good prospects. I had the opportunity in September to travel on business to visit two groups that I manage in China and Singapore. The visit was productive and I got to be a tourist one Sunday in Xi’an.

Christmas letters are often not read beyond the first page (or perhaps the first paragraph) and I’ve already exceeded that, so I had better wind this up.

To all of you from all of us we wish you the merriest of holidays and best wishes for a happy and healthy 2008.